


Circadian Rhythm

by kalika_999



Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward First Times, Best Friends, Blasphemy, Brock's mode of entry is through Jack's window, Childhood Friends, Declarations Of Love, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, HYDRA Husbands, Hand Jobs, Homophobic Language, Idiots in Love, M/M, Memories, Pining, Swearing, kids these days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 10:19:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6700972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/kalika_999
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack was going to follow him anywhere.  He already knew that the day they met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Circadian Rhythm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarSpangledBucky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpangledBucky/gifts).



> This just randomly popped in my head after listening to Circadian Rhythm by Silversun Pickups and that one line hit me like a ton of bricks. It also didn't help that Zoe was writing Hydra Husbands in a high school setting as well with her Winteriron story and boy does she distract me when I'm supposed to be working on my main story lmao. <3
> 
> Note: I don't write the regular run of the mill Hydra Husbands so if you're looking for stuff like that, I won't be giving it to you here, sorry. :3

_Standing arm and arm, still so out of reach_  
_Well, there's nowhere left to go_  
_Stay with me_  
_Stay with me_

  


Jack was five when he met him, a mess of black hair that had a slight wave and large dark coppery colored eyes. He wasn’t exactly shy but he wasn’t exactly social either but he sat beside him anyway and said hi like his mother taught him to and that boy only looked at him like he had three heads, punching play-doh on the activity table without a care in the world.

He was staring out the window when the boy finally held some out, green just like his favorite color and his eyes. He was sure it was fate. No one could tell him otherwise.

He found out his name was Brock and it was odd but it was different, he liked different. He immediately liked Brock. Jack shared his snacks with him, he liked the cheese and crackers most. He made a note to tell his mom that’s what he preferred too.

 

Elementary school was a blur of leaning against soccer field fences and portable rooms. Getting in trouble for throwing rocks at the beehives and loathing to write in cursive. 

He remembered the time he broke his arm climbing a tree to get the kite tangled in the branches. Brock didn’t make a noise, his features stoic and steel getting someone to help and keeping Jack calm when all Jack really wanted to do was scream. It wasn’t til later when his mother was talking to his father that he overheard her tell him that Brock cried in the car when she went to take him home from the hospital because Jack had needed his rest. 

He could barely remember a lot of anything but as long but as his best friend was by his side he was okay with that.

 

High school was big and intimidating, new things to learn and get used to. Jack grew and it felt like an odd new body. Brock looked at him funny, like he wanted to say something but never tried to do it instead scowling silent and deep. It made Jack want to go back to being smaller but Brock would always end up laughing at him when he would mention it.

“Must be drunk Rollins, ain’t no fuckin’ reason to go back to being a shrimp!”

He was always told to come straight home and if he was late it was push ups for him; homework then leisure time, dinner at six sharp like clockwork, chores then video games after, bed was at ten no excuses.

Brock was usually in tow, when he wasn’t it was lonely. Attached to the hip his mother would say with a laugh, his father would roll his eyes and tell him to wean off his best friend, he was becoming a man.

 

Jack was almost fifteen when he came home sporting a black eye and a bloody nose, Brock’s arm slung around his shoulder and his best friend mirroring his bruises except with a glint in his eye and a small limp. In the kitchen Jack cleaned them up and Brock was all smiles even with his split lip, re-enacting the events with discolored knuckles and red stained fingers. His father sent him to bed with no supper and Brock was asked to leave. He was told Brock Rumlow was bad news.

Jack already knew that but he was in way too deep for him.

That was the night when a pebble hit his window, then another until he pulled himself out of bed and saw Brock sitting in the tree on a branch just before him with a smirk and a wild adventurous look in his eye.

“Wanna run away with me Jackie boy?”

Jack began to leave his window open, even when it was cold out and like a cat Brock would sneak in. He was usually awake but sometimes he’d come to with a lump beside him all warm and curled up buried in a black sweater with dark hair falling over his face holding a comic on his chest and the lamp light burning into the night.

When they snuck out, they were sneaking into drive in movies, loitering in parking lots with others like themselves, they spit at cars from the overpass while they made ridiculous bets and sometimes they would have to cut through the woods while Jack told scary stories. Brock would always make sure he was holding the flashlight at that point and kept saying out loud how he hoped a monster from whatever story Jack told would jump out so he could kick its ass. 

Jack wasn’t too sure if he really could but he was ready to help.

When it got too hot they’d hit the all night diner at the corner and buy shakes with a slice of cheesecake. Depending on the waitress, they sometimes got an extra piece and that was always a good day for them. Skinny dipping against the full moon to cool off was another, but it was when Jack had to be the most careful to not do anything stupid.

The moon would sit so bright over their heads, glowing down over them and Brock would stand in all his naked glory at the bank posing like a fool reciting lines from some wrestler he admired on television. He’d fall into the grass while his body was glistening and cause Jack to burn hotter than any day they had encountered.

“The grass is ticklin’ my ass but it’s real comfy here! Come lay out with me you dick.”

Jack only sank deeper into the water.

“Fuck off, no way in hell I’m leaving the water for Satan’s ass crack, it’s perfect here!”

“Nothin’ bad about it when you ain’t wearin’ clothes.”

He kept his mouth shut, there was definitely something bad if he left the safety of the water.

 

It wasn’t until the day after his fifteenth birthday on a warm Friday after school that Jack realized Brock felt the same way. 

“Did you decide who yer going to ask out to the stupid dance?”

Jack remembered screwing his face up in annoyance, glancing up at the sun glaring down at him while they were laid out in the grass. He still remembered the red polo shirt he was wearing with pale blue jeans and a tear at the knee. Brock was wearing all black in the sunshine, ignoring every jab Jack would make about it. Always sporting some band t-shirt and black jeans while his unruly hair fell over his eyes. 

He had been asking him for over a week the same annoying question of who he was going to ask, never bothering to ask if he was even going. Jack never gave an impression that he wanted to, it was actually the complete opposite, he planned to order pizza and watch scary movies even though Brock loathed them so much.

“What the hell is riling you up about the dance anyway? You’ve been asking me for a week if I’m gonna go and no, I ain’t. It’s stupid and boring, why waste my time going there when I can hang out doing something else. Someone ask you Brock?”

Brock only huffed at his hair and shook his head, pulling up patches of grass in silence and Jack didn’t get it.

“You should. Get the rumors off your back.”

“What rumors?”

“The ones where everyone thinks we’re queer together.”

It sank in like a dull sensation brushing down his side, the memory so distinct and cold. Brock usually never cared about what people thought which only gave Jack the indication that Brock didn’t want people to think _that_ about them. He remembered wanting to take a walk away, feeling shitty about knowing Brock’s true feelings.

“Fuck what other people have to say, not like you should give a shit. If it’s bothering you so much then you go to the dance. You could go get any of those girls that bat their eyes at you when you’re playing sports.”

He was walking before he finished but he stopped when he heard the one thing that he didn’t realize Brock was going to pick up on.

“Holy shit Jack, you’re some kinda jealous.”

He turned to see a smirk across his face and panic bubbled up inside of him. 

“Fuck off.”

Brock grabbed his arm and he struggled to pull away but he wouldn’t let him, pulling him back and Jack shoved him into the tree which only pissed his best friend off and they tumbled into the grass to fight like they usually did when they didn’t agree on something. This wasn’t like his fantasies though, his eye stung from a punch and he saw a flash of white when his head hit the grass with no warning. Brock socked him in the stomach and Jack managed to flip them over, pinning him down with the entire length of his body the only real way he could stop him. His upper body leaned, pressing down Brock’s wrists with his fingers pressed into his skin knowing he was going to bruise him in no time. It wasn’t exciting for him though, burning with an anger he couldn’t control.

“Yeah, I am jealous. I’m fucking jealous every time someone looks at you, I get jealous when you talk about someone that looks good to you.”

He knew Brock was going to protest, maybe say something smart with that giant mouth of his but Jack grasped his wrists tighter and brought them off the ground only to slam them against the grass to keep on track and to let him speak.

“You’re fucking right Brock, we should get the rumors off our backs but not for my sake, just for yours. I won’t yell it off to everyone but I’m gay and I’m fuckin’ fine with that. If you’re not okay with that then you had better start gatherin’ up as many girls as you can to protect yourself.”

He remembered the surprised way Brock looked at him, anger crossing his features with pressed in lips and wide eyes, face flushing but as quickly as it came it was gone, his features looking furtive and lost in his thoughts. He knew the precise moment the world changed, Brock licking his lips after staring up for the longest time at him, red flushed lips parted and in need to say something but nothing came. So all he did was stare up with those brown eyes, so light in the sunlight they were almost a dark gold and all Jack wanted to do was kiss him and Brock seemed to be asking him to.

So he did.

He leaned in and kissed him against his bottom lip, off center at the side a little and it was more chaste than anything he would have pictured in his head when he was thinking about doing this. He drew back a little, see how Brock would take it, readying himself for the wrath of God his friend sometimes embodied but he only stared at him with wider eyes and a needy look. It washed over him like nothing he could describe and he only took that as a go ahead.

It was awkward, Jack had never kissed anyone before like this and he felt uneasy but he wanted to, he _had_ to. To Brock’s credit, he only froze for a second and instead of just pulling back he only melted under him and the intoxicated feel of lips pushing back against his mouth urged him to kiss deeper. 

If someone asked him to describe every exact feeling and detail about their first kiss Jack would have failed. His head was spinning, foggy and lost in emotions he couldn’t even stand to describe. He did have enough realization to shift his weight, letting go of wrists so one of Jack's elbows supported him against the grass and his other hand could cup Brock’s jaw. 

Almost immediately he felt a hand slide into his hair, gripping softly. He knew he should stop, his tongue swiping across lightly bruised and bitten lips apologetically but Brock wasn’t having it, tugging at his hair to keep him in their bubble, allowing him in so he could suck on his tongue and make a noise at the back of his throat. A short shift of his friend’s legs suddenly fit Jack’s frame in between them, thighs squeezing at hips and Jack was pulled in, he couldn’t stop now.

Everything was too hot. The way he was laid over Brock was just so much and he wanted to be like that for eternity. It only seemed like Brock didn’t mind it either, his hand pushing him down harder, more frantic for his mouth and it felt like everything was gone around them and they were the only pair left on the earth. Jack was oh so very fine with that, he had already forgotten it all and just fell into the feelings. Always lost in those desperate feelings for him.

It wasn’t until he distinctly heard a broken moan under him that something more sparked in Jack, he wasn’t able to help himself but moan back in pleasure, pushing his hips in and Brock met him eagerly. Their barely coordinated kisses were turning sloppier and more messy, teeth and invading tongues taking over as Jack ground his cock harder into Brock’s hardening dick through their layers of clothing not able to stop himself because he had wanted this with Brock, _his_ Brock and he was happy this way with him wanting it as much as he did.

He was so lost in the way he could get Brock to moan like that and the way he felt against him that he didn’t register hands pressing to his shoulders and with one hard shove he was off him and Brock was on his feet and running. He knew he called after him but Brock never even looked back. It was only him left under the old oak confused and upset.

Jack waited for him that night, and the next but there was no sign of Brock, only ignored calls and the cloud of regret leaving him wallowing in the weight of loneliness and his broken heart tearing inside his chest.

 

It wasn’t until the weekend was almost gone and he was hunched over a desk with the light of the lamp barely studying when he heard a soft grunt and the scrape of a shoe against bark that snapped him out of his textbook. Jack put his pen down in surprise, turning his head to see Brock’s face laced with a set determination as he climbed in, tongue slightly peeking out, fingers gripping firmly to the frame. 

Carefully he got himself to his feet, making sure to do it with his hands out like he was showing he wasn’t a threat to a startled animal and Brock only leaned against the window sill watching him with such a hard intensity. It made him nervous and wary but he would never not welcome his best friend back.

Jack stood up fully, usually slouched with his shoulders in now just looking tall and broad shouldered. Brock always made it a point to call him Sasquatch and he didn’t really bother to tell him not to, it was his name for him and his alone, sparking fights with anyone that decided to use it themselves. His back pressed up against his desk chair as he waited for Brock who only stared with a look in his eye. He had the same expression when he was about ready to fight and it only made Jack regret kissing him, only wanting everything they had to return the way they were before.

The air was so thick, their breathing filling the silence. He swallowed quickly, raising his hand up wanting to explain himself, reverse things. Fix it all and assure Brock.

“I’m sorry.”

It was all he could think of saying, Brock’s eyes sharp and they widened, his hands balled into fists. He realized Brock had cut in at the same moment, _I love you_ floating up and away from his lips, his eyes blinking a few times at the realization that Jack was trying to take it all back and away from him and Jack could only flounder and gape at him in shock.

“What? You..?”

Panic. Sheer panic overcame them both.

He watched Brock turn his head towards the window and he could already see the cogwheels moving in his mind, planning an escape route out and run away again but this time Jack wouldn’t let him, he couldn’t deal with him leaving him all over again. The idea of being without Brock was too much, too frightening. The space of the room between them cut down to nothing in a couple of short wide strides, large hands grasping at Brock’s arms pulling him in to kiss him hard and make sure he understood that this was the only place he ever wanted to be.

Jack slowly registered a small shrill sound of surprise from Brock when their mouths slammed roughly into one another’s but he melted into him quickly and Jack let go only to wrap his arms around his waist, pushing him to the window frame to keep him there. 

He only drew back when he knew they both needed air, but he refused to let it linger like that. He’d wanted Brock’s lips on his since longer than he could remember and more so after that kiss they shared. The fact that Brock was letting him and had said those three simple little words, he knew then he was never going to let him go.

Brock’s half fists tugged at the ends of Jack’s shirt so tightly, his breathing a little ragged; that look of self determination came back and after an internal struggle with his hands pulling and pressing against the softness of his clothing he moved away from him only to move further into the bedroom. 

Jack only stared, locked in Brock’s gaze watching him walk away slowly until the back of his legs hit the side of his bed frame. Brock’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, nibbling lightly at his bottom lip with those large eyes he was sure Brock had no idea he could do and Jack could only gape, feeling his body respond far too eagerly.

“You can just watch me..if you want..”

Jack had no idea what exactly he meant, only warm breath drawing past his parted lips watching Brock’s flushed face turn down to unbuckle his belt as he kicked off his shoes, one disappearing with the darkness lurking under his bed. The light on the desk gave Jack enough of a view to see Brock’s hands shaking softly before his jeans were undone, sliding off and over to the side, toes wiggling against the hardwood flooring. He tugged off his t-shirt and those light chocolate brown eyes gazed at him again giving him a small smile that was always just for Jack. 

Jack was entirely unsure of what to do, nervous and awkward but he couldn’t help himself, letting his eyes rove over every part of his best friend, swallowing thickly as he took him in and taking his time with it when it was usually a quick glance or a longing look when his naked back was turned, tonight he could soak it all in because Brock was allowing him to.

Brock stared up at him as he slowly sat himself down, the soft squeak of the bedspring making his face screw into an amused look of surprise forgetting it did that. He shifted back to bring his legs up with him, one arm leaning back behind his body to prop himself up. There was an awkward shyness to his movements Jack had never really seen before come out, watching those lightly trembling fingers skim over his goosefleshed skin along his chest. 

Jack’s eyes watched fingers dance along his raised and fallen stomach until they hesitated at the bunched material at his waist, Brock’s hand moving finally to palm himself through his strained boxers and a jolt sparked through Jack that this was _his Rummy_ , his fuckin’ asshole best friend looking like he just goddamn fell from the sky looking so perfect and half sprawled across his bed to play with himself like he had something to _prove_ , like he had to show _him_ just how much he loved him and he just couldn’t let him do that.

“Rum, Brock..stop.”

His tone was too clipped he realized when Brock sat up as straight as a rod and moved his hand away refusing to look at him anymore. 

“Shit.”

Jack pressed forward to right the error standing inches away from muscular legs that were for an athlete, toned and perfect, studying that tucked away face that carried an exposed vulnerable side to such an abrasive exterior.

“No, I just..not alone..” 

He was babbling, sometimes he did it when Brock was around him. Making his head all screwy and useless. He was so fucking good at it. Brock looked up in question, eyes never leaving him as he took the time to search and as always Jack followed his gaze and waited for him. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Brock rested his hand against his thigh, one leg of his boxers exposing more of what was there. Jack only stared again while Brock let him, soon forcing himself to take his eyes off the front of those black boxers and centralize on what he had really wanted to do. His hands fumbled to pull off his own shirt, his brain trying to focus on undoing his jeans while Brock watched on with his bottom lip disappearing between his teeth like he did when he was getting something he wanted. It only made Jack move faster, leaving him with nothing on but blue cotton plaid boxers as Brock unashamedly rested his gaze on the fabric trying to hold back his own bulge and a blush rolled over Jack like a wave from the sea. His friend snuck cautiously to the edge of his mattress resting a hand beside him giving the bed a small pat.

“Come here.”

In a sense he wasn’t surprised how the tables turned on him from when Brock wanted to run, he usually took lead and Jack was always happy to follow. He sat down with his thigh pressed against Brock’s, their skin already warm and tingling from their kisses and the abrupt way it moved to lacking much of any clothing, the heavy air outside didn’t help them any but even with all that he felt a cold spark ride down his spine. 

His hand timidly sat itself down on Brock’s skin feeling the goosebumps rise against his palm, stroking his thigh in a light circle. He heard the light hitch of breath next to him and turned, catching Brock in for another kiss, moving his hands to catch at his elbows and bring him in close, one of Brock’s legs draping over his own. Jack moved a hand to pull him fully onto his lap and not break their kiss, all wet and sloppy, so completely uncoordinated and he wouldn’t have had it any other way because this was Brock and anything he could have from him was worth that moment.

Brock murmured something against his mouth and Jack couldn’t be bothered to check what it was as he rolled his hips forward. His hard cock sliding against his friend’s and even through two layers he was already losing his mind. A hot huff of air washed along his chin when Brock gasped out, mouth hanging open and groaning as his fingers gripped and dug into Jack’s broad shoulders, his eyes closing tight. 

How many dreams did he have with Brock just like this? Looking above him like that? Beautiful and needing more of whatever he could give.

Jack pressed a kiss against Brock’s very faintly stubbled jaw, then to his throat and a few more came along with it until he was at the crook of his neck leaving a small kiss to the spot before giving his shoulder a small nip playfully just to test how Brock would react only to have him shudder against him. 

He leaned Brock back to lay him out but he was stopped before he could move after him, a filthy smirk across his darkened features and thumbs hooked to his black boxers, sliding them down slow while he focused on Jack’s reaction watching how he could only stare at how hard and wet his dick already was.

“Jack.”

It was barely there but it was thick like molasses and laced with so much need, he looked up on command staring at him with dark eyes, Brock’s head giving quick nod at Jack’s own boxers. He promptly wiggled himself out of them, his own cock achingly hard and he didn’t bother to hide the sigh of relief he let out when he was finally free of them. He watched Brock’s eyes rest on him giving his lips a lick and a rush of pride rolled over him.

Not waiting for an invitation, impulse took over and Brock took initiative, straddling himself back on him as they both fumbled and shifted until their cocks were rubbing against each others and everything became exponentially heated. Brock’s head dropped down, pulling both his arms around Jack’s neck as Jack planted a light kiss against his cheek looping his arm around his best friend’s waist to bring him closer.

“Brock..”

There was so much he wanted to say yet nothing came to him. His mind fumbled in the darkness and he wanted to tell him how he had wanted to touch him so badly for so long, that he was aching to, dreaming about it every single second of the day. He moved his free hand off the sheets, bringing their dicks together and stroking them at once. His hand easily sliding with the slick of their precum, his fingers so perfectly fitting around. 

Immediately he could feel heat and sparks, so much at once rushing through. He already knew how good it felt to do this by himself but with Brock, it was oh so much better. It felt so much like one of his thoughts, one of his many daydreams, both of them nestled in his hand and pressed together, every stroke convincing Brock to make a new noise, soft growls desperately trying to escape from Jack’s own throat.

He turned a little, fumbling slightly with Brock clutched to him but he managed to reach his desk, thumb pressing down on the pump of his lotion bottle to get a good handful before he returned to settle between them again. He stroked them faster, palm moving freely and Brock almost jumped against him, his sounds coming out needy and restless. He watched his face fall against his shoulder, planting small hickies and kisses. It wasn’t until the speed picked up that Jack felt a sharp pain at this own shoulder from Brock biting down to keep himself from screaming out, making him gasp through his stuttered moan followed after with the sensation of wet lips kissing the spot and tracing it with the tip of his tongue like he was branding him.

“Faster Jack.”

Jack was engulfed in flames just at the sound of Brock saying his name like that. Like it was all holy and the only thing that allowed him to breathe. He moved his hand faster for them and he felt another bite mark his skin, this time harder, greedier and so very possessive, Brock barely able to muffle his moans as he thrust impatiently into Jack’s hand. 

“Gotta be quiet Rummy..” 

Brock wrapped his legs tighter around Jack’s body and keened into it, thighs squeezing Jack with his face neatly tucked against his neck again. Brock sang into his skin, words rambled and Jack’s name falling against damp sweaty skin. Jack had no idea how he was going to sit in church on the following Sunday after listening to Brock curse God and praise Jack as the Almighty all in one sentence. Jack didn’t even want to admit how _good_ it was making him feel. The heat in his stomach coiling in tight and ready to snap. He didn’t need God looking down at him with all of his wrath as he sat in those pews and knew he was going to have to figure out a crafty way to hide his bulge during service.

Fucking Brock Rumlow.

All Jack could focus on was the way Brock reacted to everything, the way he was shaking and made so many different sounds, his mouth flushed red from biting back louder cries or the touch of his lips pressing into his own skin. The slight sting and tingle from all the bites and bruises he was leaving. Sometimes his eyes would close or they would widen in surprise if Jack moved to twist his hand just so or go with a quicker pace for them, his strong thighs were so taut and trembling around him while he thrust his hips for more. He whimpered desperately for release and it was making Jack delirious.

“Don’t stop, Jack please don’t- ”

And fuck did Jack want to memorize that whimper right there. He moved his head to kiss Brock again, an eager mouth quickly latching on to him, his tongue easily found entry as his hand switched to only jerk Brock off. He wanted him to cum, wanted to relieve him of his torture first and foremost, enjoying how he was letting him touch him, feel him, the velvety smooth skin of his cock pressing into his palm so wet and he knew by the way he was letting out higher pitched noises that he was close. Much too close. The only warning Brock gave was a useless half attempt at retreating so he wouldn’t go all over Jack forgetting the arm that was sheltering him in and his own thighs wrapped around his hips secure and tight, his head pulling back with his hand pressed to his mouth to bite into the flesh and muffle a haggard cry as he shuddered and came in messy streaks against Jack’s stomach. 

Brock was almost boneless as Jack rubbed him through the aftershocks like he liked to for himself and Brock's soft, hurt sound when the overstimulation started almost caused him to cum without being touched. He held him close letting his face tuck in against him protectively, ignoring his own ache but Brock never did leave Jack in the dark. 

It only took Brock a few seconds to settle himself down and then sat back up again, black damp hair sticking to his sweaty skin, sleepy eyes looking at him as he smiled wide down at him, the evil way he did when he was up to no good. Jack was always falling for that smile, feeling Brock’s fingers wrap tight around him and he could only take in a sharp breath in surprise not realizing how much he had wanted to be touched by his best friend. Brock’s features so eager and hungry, a wicked look dancing across his eyes knowing how much he had wanted this too. His touch was firm and it didn’t take long for Jack to be at his mercy, thrusting into Brock’s grasp, trying hard not to scream his name out over and over again. 

“You like that, do ya?” 

Brock whispered it soft in his ear, breathless and laced in amusement letting his lips dust against the shell of his ear. Jack only grunted, a soft shiver washing over him, barely able to register anything and he nodded. 

“I thought so, been a long time I wanted to jerk you off like this Rollins.” 

He couldn’t even respond, eyes staring up at the focused gaze Brock held when something was important to him. Brock twisted his wrist, his thumb dragging over his slit and it was so much and not enough at the same time yet so much better than his own hand. 

“What’s in that dirty mind of yours Jack?”

Jack furrowed his brows groaning out low as he dragged his lips along Brock’s collarbone. His hands gripped tight to Brock’s ass, fingers bruising his skin, his dull fingernails digging into his flesh.

“Gonna fuck you so hard one of these days..”

Brock lost all composure, brows raised up in surprise before his smile came back giving his red throbbing dick a squeeze.

“Oh yeah? You really think I’m gonna let ya Sweetheart?”

Jack gazed up at him with a defiance he knew would get Brock going, pulling every trick he could to keep his face from showing how much he was falling apart, his own sweat soaked hair falling over his eyes.

“Yeah I know you will. Get every inch inside of you all slow and teasin’, get you to beg for me to go faster. Pound your ass til you can’t walk anymore..”

“Fuck Jack..Christ who taught you to talk like that..?”

Brock’s words fell out of him in surprise, caught so off guard and lost in Jack’s admission. His hand stilled for a second, he was so sure Brock was going to get hard in no time all over again just from that. Jack pressed his hand over Brock’s, directing him to move again and he did after a small squeeze, Brock finding his mouth again to kiss him hungrily. 

“Gonna..” 

Brock only kissed him harder, Jack thrusting up into his hand one last time before he came with a growled groan against his best friend’s mouth. His body shuddered and he had to fall back into the sheets, Brock coming down after him, pressing kisses against his chin then along his jaw. Jack wrapped his arms tight around him and he knew they had a mess to clean up between their bellies but for now he was content and feeling lazy especially with all of Brock’s weight down on him with his eyes just staring at him. 

Jack caught his breath watching Brock rest his forehead against his, sharing the same air as they listened to each other in the thick silence. 

“I love you too you know, in case you didn’t get that part.”

Brock broke out in a wry grin, bumping his nose against Jack’s.

“Yeah, no fuckin’ shit. Think I’m about to break up with you before you even ask me out dick.”

Jack met him with a slow sleepy smile, feeling a sharp spasm of tightness in his chest, planting a soft kiss against Brock’s lips. He drew them back just a fraction, letting his lips feather against Brock’s, running the palms of his hands along the small of his back finally stopping to teasingly cup his ass and give both cheeks a hard squeeze.

“Aw but Rums we could have a lot of fun just me and you..”

A whimpered groan involuntarily slipped out, hips pushing into Jack helplessly.

“Fuckin’ hell, and here everyone says I’m the bad one.”


End file.
